


Daddy, Make it Better

by Mustard_Fairy



Series: Finding Solace in Sucking Your Thumb [2]
Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: ABDL, Diapers, Infantilism, coping with anxiety disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-02 12:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5247815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mustard_Fairy/pseuds/Mustard_Fairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adventures of Baby Zimmy and Daddy Manson</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Going to Buy Diapers

Marilyn Manson were not on tour anymore, which meant Zim had more time to regress, and Manson had more time to be his Daddy. They both continued to be secretive about it, however, in fear of negative reactions from their band mates, even Pogo, who continued to seem wary about it. But despite that, things were going well for the two. Manson was constantly looking forward to Zim regressing, and secretly, he wished Zim would stay a baby forever. Each time he'd care for the smaller man, he wanted to do it more and more.

One day, Zim and Marilyn were on the couch casually watching a movie, when Marilyn began to notice Zim becoming increasingly fidgety. It was Pulp Fiction, and they had both seen it multiple times, so the frontman figured that Zimmy was just bored. He paused the movie and looked over at him, "You okay, Z?" he asked, concerned. Zim threw his head back on the couch cushion, fussily, turning to look at his friend. Manson could tell something was up. Zim spoke quietly, as he usually did, "I'm...I'm little," he sounded as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

Manson couldn't help but smile, as it was once again his time to feel needed. "Aww, it's alright, Zim," He consoled. Zim looked up at the taller man, pouting, "I feel bad..." he admitted sullenly before turning away. "No, it's no trouble, Zimmy!" insisted Manson. He knelt down in front of Zim and took his hands in his own in a comforting way. "Look at me, Zim," he said. Zim obeyed, locking eyes with the singer, who smiled warmly. "All you have to do is ask, Baby," he said gently, "and Daddy will take care of everything."

Zim instinctively blushed, and put on a relieved smile, "Thanks Daddy." He was honestly sort of thankful that Marilyn had found out. Manson playfully poked the guitarist's tummy, "Shall we go get you into some more suitable attire, then?" he asked. Zim nodded, "Ya! Ya!" He jumped up eagerly and followed Manson to his bedroom.

Ah, Zim's room had such a comforting feeling. It had the subtle scent of babypowder, and upon his bed sat his beloved teddy, always welcoming him with a smile. Manson instinctively pat the bed, "up you go, Little One." Zim obeyed and ploped down with a gentle bounce of the springs, making him laugh. He laid back and watched as Manson went to his closet, where he hid the diapers. Zim smiled a little and closed his eyes, expecting to hear the faint rustle of a diaper within Manson's grasp. But all he heard after a few minutes, was the soft curse of "shit."

He sat up, alarmed, "Daddy?" he asked cautiously. Manson turned around, thankfully with a diaper in his hand, but a frown on his face. Zim became nervous, and pouted, "What's wrong?" Manson sighed, "This your last diaper, until our order comes in the mail," he sounded frustrated. Zim remembered that Daddy had bought a supply of 200 Bambino diapers for him a few days back, but it would be a few weeks before they arrived in the mail.

"Oh," Zim said nervously. He tried not to let his anxiety get the best of him, this time, and simply looked up at Daddy for a solution, "What do we do?" Manson proceeded to grab the baby powder and close the closet door, "Well, it looks like we'll be taking a trip to the store tonight," he approached Zim with a smile. The shorter man grew nervous as Daddy pulled his jeans and underwear both off, "T-The store?" he stuttered. The singer laughed, "Yeah, just to get some back-up diapers for the time being," he paused, "are you okay with that, babe?" He asked, concerned.

Zim tried to push every single thing that could go wrong to the back of his brain, as he forced himself to smile, "Yes, Daddy, it's fine." Manson gave a skeptical look, before proceeding to get his boy nicely padded. "If you don't want to, we can wait," he suggested. But Zim knew he would miss the warm and secure feeling of his diapers, in the meantime. "No, it's okay," he lied, "I'm good with it." The singer gave Zim a loving kiss on the forehead.

It wasn't as if he hadn't been out in public diapered before, as he had a handful of times since the singer became his "Daddy", but something about this time made him especially nervous. Maybe it was just because they weren't on tour anymore, they would be out in "the real world" surrounded by the general public, Zim wasn't sure. Once he was diapered all snug, Daddy proceeded to pull his jeans back up over the cushy material. "Snug as a bug," he chimed happily, patting the younger man's groin gently. Zim stood up and instantly went for his sweater to tie around his waist.

"You know you can't tell, right?" said Manson. Zim shook his head, "But I can," he insisted. The singer frowned, "Are you sure you want to do this?" "For the third friggin' time, Daddy, yes! I don't mind at all!" yelled Zim. Manson blinked, slightly taken back by Zim's attitude. Before he could even scold him like a father would, Zim realized his actions. "Shit," He said, "I mean...crap," he corrected, "I'm...I'm sorry, Daddy." He looked down, feeling bad for snapping. Now it was really apparent how anxious he was, and he had to take a moment to put his face in his hands and think.

"Hey now, breathe, Zim," coaxed the singer, "It'll be a piece of cake." He mentally prayed to whatever god that he was right, for once, as he reached over and soothingly rubbed Zim's back. The guitarist took a deep breath and eyed the clock on the wall. It was almost eleven at night, who was going to be out that late to recognize them? Who in their right mind shops at a 24-hour drugstore that late? Oh...well, they do...

 

 

..And apparently a few others, as well!

Zim was having second thoughts as soon as they walked through the automatic doors, "Turn around and run the fuck away," He thought. He looked up at Manson as they walked beside eachother, and then proceeded to look around in a paranoid fashion. He was sure the few other strangers around could hear the faint crinkling of his diaper. "Zim, relax," the singer said, firmly, "They'll think we're stealing," he whispered with a chuckle. Zim looked down and blushed, keeping his eyes on his boots the entire time they walked. This caused him to run into Manson slightly when he stopped in the needed isle.

"Silly baby," laughed the singer quietly. The meek guitarist allowed himself to look up at the shelf, with a sign that said 'Adult Briefs' in big bold letters. "God kill me now," he thought to himself. He looked around suspiciously, once again, while the bigger man scanned the shelves for a decent brand of adult disposable diapers. Zim felt himself blush as hard as he ever could as he stood frozen, his back to a young female store employee who seemed to be speaking to them.

"S'cuse me, sir, can I help you find anything?" she shyly asked. The girl looked no more than eighteen, and by the looks of it, she may have recognized them. Zim forced himself to turn his head and let out a weak "Uh," in response. Before he could even think of something clever to say, Manson, of course, took over. "Yes, I'm looking for some items for my grandparents," He lied, "Would you know what to recommend?" The girl came over and joined him in scanning the shelves, "Hmmm," was all she muttered. Zim simply stood off to the side, fumbling with his painted fingernails, nervously.

And that's when his bladder started giving his brain signals. "Damnit, not here!" he lightly cursed under his breath. He heard the girl tell Manson, "Oh, I've heard good things about the Abena brand, here," she pointed to a package, "What type of brief are you looking for?" If this wasn't embarrassing enough, Zim needed to pee, but was he going to wet his diaper in the middle of an isle? Of course not! He thought about rather dropping dead right there.

"Oh, I dunno," Manson replied, "something aorbent, I suppose." The employee gave a reassuring smile, "Well I think your best bet would be the Abri-Forms, right here," she gave the plastic package a pat. "Thanks so much," the singer said, returning the smile. "And...might I say," the girl seemed shy once more, "you seem to be a very caring grandson." Manson found this amusing, as he simply responded with a grin and a chuckle while picking up two of the packages. "Thanks for the help, Ma'am," he thanked as he walked off toward the baby isle, motioning for Zim to follow. Grandparents...right.

Zim padded along beside him, seeming fairly alerted, "Da," he whispered after clearing his throat. "Hmm?" said Marilyn, who seemed to not pay too much attention, at this point. "I...I gotta...you know," Zimmy squeaked, "I gotta pee," he mumbled under his breath. Marilyn smiled and laughed a little, turning into the isle to find some baby wipes. "So then why don't you just go, silly-butt," he whispered, scanning the shelves once more. Zim cringed at the thought of someone listening and whined, "I can't." "Then you must not have to go that bad," the rock star teased. The guitarist gave a frustrated sigh.

Zim was sure Daddy was stalling on purpose, he watched as Manson knelt down to a lower shelf, staring intently. The more he thought about his aching bladder, the more he felt the need to go. He began to think through the options. "Okay, so what could happen if I go pee right here?" He thought, "Oh god, don't answer that." He shifted uncomfortably and looked down, his black hair falling in front of his eyes. "Damnit Daddy, just pick something! I'm about to burst over here!" He thought again. "Should I just...go?" He spoke this time, lowly so Daddy could hear. Once again, Marilyn's answer was simply, "Hm?" as he read the ingredients from a diaper rash cream tube.

"Oh fuck it," Zim thought. He walked over and looked up at the shelf, pretending to browse, as he focused on letting go. He picked up a set of rubber duckies and studied them, feeling his diaper getting warmer and warmer. Zim almost wanted to throw his head back and sigh with sweet relief. He was really pissing himself right there in public, just like a real baby. It was embarrassing, but at the same time, absolutely delightful and comforting. He looked over and noticed Marilyn watching him with a knowing smile. "Feel better?" He asked. Zim just simply nodded. The shorter man nearly squeaked as Manson stood up from his kneeling position and grabbed the duckies away, placing them in his basket. "For being such a good boy," He said with a wink.

Zimmy smiled, filling himself with babyish pride. He followed Marilyn to the front checkout, feeling his warm diaper rub against his skin, slightly swollen. He blushed and tried his best not to walk with a noticeable waddle. He still avoided all eye contact with the cashier, afraid she was onto them. When in reality, the older, heavyweight woman simply gave them a quirked eyebrow. "Must be a full moon," he heard her mumble under her breath, as she collected the tall man's payment. That made him want to laugh out loud.

As they walked out to their car, Marily clicked his tongue, "Now, was that so bad?" he asked, making the guitarist giggle. "No, I guess not," Zim turned to Marilyn, "Did you do that on purpose?" Manson gave a cheeky grin, reaching down and squeezing Zim's soggy padded ass through his jeans, making the small man squeak with surprise.

"Daddy knows what's best, Baby."


	2. Baby's First Spanking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (An important lesson about spanking someone without their permission)

Today wasn't a very good day for Marilyn. He was plagued with a headache, and it caused his songwriting to suffer. He sat on the couch, furiously scribbling in his notebook, trying to get something out. Not only that, but little Zimmy was acting particularly fussy today, which didn't help. Manson knew the little one was needy, but his patience were running thin. Meanwhile, the innocent guitarist was sat in his view on the living room floor with his toys.

Diapered as usual, sucking on his pacifier and looking sweet, he found comfort in building a block tower. He carefully held the tenth block up to rest it on top. Zim's hair nearly stood on end as the tower wobbled. 'Please don't fall,' he thought. He held his breath as it wobbled some more and began to lean forward. The guitarist quickly turned away and cringed at the sound of his little wooden blocks hitting the carpet. 'Damnit!'

Despite his mental curses, Zim currently had the simple mind of a toddler, and seeing his pretend skyscraper scattered about on the floor surely displeased him. He pouted his lips and crossed his arms, "Hmph," he scoffed. He looked up at his daddy and whined for a solution, "Da?" Marilyn seemed frustrated, but he tried his damnedest not to take it out on Zim. "Yeah, babe?" asked the frontman, not even looking up from the notebook.

Zimmy pointed to the blocks on the carpet, "fall down," was all he said. He was starting to realize how little attention Manson was paying. "Aww, I'm sorry baby," said Daddy, "why don't you make another one?" The singer ran his hand through his own hair as he crossed out yet another word. This was useless, he would never get any work done with Zim being in this headspace all day. He sighed and cursed at himself under his breath. 'Stop it, it's not his fault,' he thought, 'You're being a dick.'

The guitarist twisted his finger around on the soft carpet for a moment, shyly, trying to figure out what to do. He decided to try not to think about how Daddy was acting, and do just what he was told. "...Kay," he peeped, slowly gathering up the blocks again. "Wanna watch?" he perked up for a moment with his question. "Huh? Oh...no, not right now, little one," Said Manson, "maybe later." Zim frowned at the response and gave another huff, "fine." He rolled his tongue around the bulb of his paci and tried to focus on starting another tower.

'Now look what you've done!' yelled Marilyn's subconscious, 'You've gone and upset YOUR baby! Nice going, dipshit.' He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He glanced over at the smaller man, feeling bad. 'He can handle it,' he thought, as if to respond to the fatherly instincts that were mentally scolding him. Zim sat with his back to Marilyn, making it obvious that he was ticked off. 'Yeah, he'll get over it,' thought the singer again, 'work is just as important as Zimmy.'

Well, now Manson wasn't the only one in the room who was frustrated. The babied guitarist was having the hardest time trying to get his little wooden block tower to stay put. He delicately placed the sixth block on the top and watched it wobble. "Stay," he squeaked, trying to hold the cubes together. Once it seemed okay, he gave a triumphant smirk before carefully placing the seventh on top. His own thoughts were rapid, as he sat there immersed in play.

'Daddy doesn't mean to be upset today,' He told himself, 'I'm sure it's fine.' He thought to himself nervously. He watched as the tower wobbled once again, with the eighth block atop. He whined, "don't." He held the cubes together once more, mentally pleading with no one in particular to not let it fall this time. When he thought it was okay to let go, he carefully did so. But the tower just didn't want to stay standing, and Zim pouted as he watched the blocks take a tumble to the floor, once again.

Now he was really frustrated, not just at the blocks, but with his Daddy. Really, this wasn't even about the blocks! He glared over at Manson, still obliviously writing down his songs. He didn't even seem to care that Zimmy was upset. Zim picked up one of the blocks and twirled it around in his hand. 'Naughty blocks,' his babyish mind thought. He glared over at Manson again, 'Naughty Daddy!'

Without even thinking, Zim threw the block toward Manson's sitting form. He just wanted to shriek, 'Notice me! Notice me!' But the pout on his face quickly faded and was replaced with remorse, a second after realizing what he had done, and every curse word in the English language began to buzz around in his mind. The wooden cube cascaded with Marilyn's glass of water on the coffee table, sending it hurdling down with a crash. Boy, he got Daddy's attention, all right.

"What the fuck?!" Manson bounced up from the couch, when he realized what happened. His eyes scanned the area of the floor that was soaked with water, and littered with shards of broken glass. But his eyes spotted something that shouldn't be there among the wreckage, something that made his patience end altogether, right then and there. There sat on the saturated floor was a little wooden block. Manson leaned down and picked up the block, as Zim sat there frozen, his heart skipping beats.

"Did you throw this?" Daddy's voice was low and angry, it almost came out a growl. Zim struggled to find the words to say, "D-Daddy...I didn't mean-" he found himself cut off with the same question, only firmer. "Zim, did you throw this block?" Manson was fighting with himself not to scream, when really that was all he wanted to do, at this point. Zim's eyes filled with tears as he nervously nodded, "Y-Yes, b-but-" he was cut off, once again. "No buts, Timothy. Corner. Now." was all Daddy said, pointing over to the empty corner across the room. Fuck work, Zim needed to be taught a lesson.

Zim wasted no time scurrying over to the corner. He pressed his nose gently against the cold wall as more tears made their way to the surface. The only thing going through his mind was, 'stupid, stupid, stupid...' The smaller man cringed slightly at the sounds of Manson's grumbling, as he took to cleaning up the mess. He remembered standing in the corner a lot, as a young child. Even after so many times, it never got any less humiliating for him.

After cleaning up the broken glass and wiping up the spill, Manson made his way over to Zim in the corner. The guitarist squeaked with surprise as Manson took his arm, firmly, but not enough to cause discomfort. He was led over to the couch, where he quickly realized that the worst was yet to come. 'Oh god, no,' screamed his mind. As soon as Manson sat down on the cushion, Zim knew, "Daddy, please, no, I didn't mean it, please!" He cried.

Manson sighed and tried not to pay much attention to the boy's protests. 'He has to learn!' he thought, as he positioned a squirmy Zimmy over his lap. The singer pulled his hands behind his back, and pulled the seat of his diaper down, exposing his pale tushie, but it wouldn't be so pale for long. Manson took a deep breath before crashing his big hand down on Zim's ass. As to be expected, a cry of anguish from the guitarist soon followed.

Zim weeped heavily as Daddy spanked him. He just couldn't believe that he would do this so suddenly. Another blistering slap against his skin, and unpleasant memories began flooding back. Memories of his parents spanking him with belts when he misbehaved, spanking him so badly, he could barely sit down. Zim just cried harder and shook his head from side to side, in attempt to shake the thoughts away, while the singer punished him. How could Manson do this to him?

Ten harsh smacks later, Manson stopped and Zim was left with not only a stinging behind, but his emotional scars ripped open again. Marilyn pulled the baby's diaper back up and helped him up. He soon realized that something was very wrong once Zim stood before him. He was no longer crying, and his face looked blank, but his eyes held the look of pure fear. "..Zim?" Manson touched the boy's shoulder gently, only to receive a flinch. 'Fuck,' He thought.

Zim just looked up at Manson sullenly, tears rushing to the surface, once again, and clouding his vision. Looking at the singer's face just made him hurt so bad. Manson was instantly starting to regret what what he did, just looking at poor Zimmy's face. "Baby," He started. The guitarist broke down once again, and ran for the bedroom door, slamming it shut and locking it.

Manson put his face in his hands, 'I fucked up! I fucked up! God damn it, I fucked up!' was all he could think, 'Way-to-go, shit-dick, you hurt your baby.' The front man was deeply upset with himself. He walked over to the bedroom door and lightly tapped on the wood. "Go away!" sobbed Zim, "Please, just leave me alone!" He sat in his bed, hugging his knees.

"Baby, please! I didn't know," Manson begged. Zim hiccuped, "You don't know anything!" He yelled. Manson felt his heart rip in two, hearing the guitarist's sobs. "Please, Zim..." his voice went gentle as he leaned his head against the door, defeated, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Please, just talk to me." The singer sounded genuinely distressed.

After a few moments of silence, Zim lifted his head from his knees and wiped his eyes. He stared over at the door as Manson pleaded again, "Please, baby." Zim had never heard the front man sound so upset. He has spanked tons of groupies and done all kinds of other masochistic shit before, but never before has he sounded so regretful about it, afterward. The guitarist slowly got up from the bed, with a crinkle, and made his way over to the door. Manson could feel his presence through the wood. He was remembering the first time he'd caught Zim in his diaper, and the boy locked himself in that hotel bathroom. It broke his heart, but this time it's broken even more.

He heard Zim unlock the door and watched as the guitarist peeked out through the crack, his green eyes filled with hurt. "Daddy," he peeped. Manson's heart was beating fast as he began to feel hopeful, once again. He held his arms open, "Come here, little one," He invited. But Zim just stood there, peeking through the crack in the door, hesitant. There was still a lump in his throat as he tried to get something out. The singer could tell that he was wanting to speak.

"When...when I was little..." He started, his breath was shaky and his eyes were staring straight ahead at nothing. "M-My parents...they...hurt me with belts," He said. Soon, his eyes cast upward into Marilyn's, "And...you just...it reminded me." Manson was mentally kicking himself about a thousand times for what he did. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I should never have put you through that." He apologized.

"Oh my god, I fucked up so bad, this time," He still wanted to scream. Zim just nodded, opening the door a little bit more and twisting his foot on the ground as he so often did, "Yeah...you kinda did," he agreed. "Well Daddy needs to fix this!" Manson said, "Please, Zim, I don't want to lose you." He was ready to drop down to his knees and beg, "How can I make this right?"

Zim paused for a moment, thinking. 'Daddy must really love me a lot,' he thought, 'otherwise, he wouldn't seem so regretful.' Manson patiently waited for his baby's response, hoping for the best. The door was pushed all the way open, now, and Zim looked into his daddy's eyes, seriously. "Never spank me again," he was aware of his own dominance showing through, and quickly receded back to being a shy little boy, "Please?" He looked at the tall man with pleading eyes.

"Never, ever, again," said Manson, "I promise." Zim nodded and offered a small smile. Manson came closer, cautious not to make his baby uncomfortable again, and kissed his forehead gently. "I'm sorry I spanked you, sweetie," He gave Zim's forehead another kiss, "So, so sorry." Zim moved in to cuddle Daddy, "And I'm sorry I threw my toy and broke your glass." Manson shook his head, he knew that wouldn't have happened if he had just been a better father figure. "You did nothing wrong, little one," He said.

"Da...there's something you could do to make it up to me.." Zim nervously said. "Anything. Name it," said the singer. Zim blushed, wiggling uncomfortable with a rustle of his thick, and now soaked diaper. He looked up at Daddy innocently, "Change my diaper? And....and rub my butt all better?" Manson smiled ear to ear, feeling so grateful for his baby's acceptance. "Of course, baby boy," he kissed Zim's forehead, once more, "Always."

He knew they would be okay.


	3. Baby Makes a Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm....going to burn for this.

"Zimmy, hold still, babe," encouraged Marilyn. It was morning, and the tall singer was trying to get the smaller man changed and ready for another day of play. He had decided to let Zim be a baby for full days, more and more. Both of them enjoyed it greatly. The guitarist was lain out on the bed before him, squirming and giggling through the pacifier between his lips, as his lower half was being sprinkled with powder. He always found diaper changes to be fun.

Manson had grown used to the changes fairly early on. He didn't mind the parts of the day when Zimmy presented him with a soaking wet diaper, a cute little pout on his lips, and a look on his face that said 'Daddy, make it better.' He'd smile and pat his baby's used padding, teasingly, knowing how much Zim needed him at this point, and absolutely loving every minute of it.

But there was still something that wasn't very babyish about Zim, he didn't use his diapers completely. Manson found it strange that he still hadn't presented him with a fully used diaper, yet. The thought of Zimmy all teary-eyed and blushy, donning a messy diaper was kind of cute, to the singer. Zim could be completely immersed in his babyish persona one minute, and as soon as he felt that familiar pressure in his lower tummy, he would quietly stand up and make his way to the 'big boy's' bathroom. Manson never protested, of course, wanting to make the boy comfortable, but he couldn't help but wonder why. Was he afraid Daddy would be mad?

Finally, the tapes were fastened snug around the guitarist's small frame. He let out a squeal as Manson blew a raspberry on his tummy, playfully. "All done, little wiggle-worm," he teased, patting the guitarist's fresh padding. "Fankies, Da," thanked Zim, sitting up. The singer ruffled the boy's hair, "Silly baby." He was trying to figure out the right way to ask Zim if he wanted to start using his diapers for more than just pee. He was quite nervous to ask. His pondering was apparently written on his face.

Zimmy cocked his head to the side, curiously and pulled the over-sized binky from his mouth. "You okay, Da?" he asked, beginning to grow nervous of the man's response. Manson caught himself thinking too hard and quickly snapped out of it. He gave a smile and sat on the bed beside him. Manson decided to just be straight-forward and ask. "Zim," he started, "I've noticed that you don't really...mess your diapers." Zim instantly blused, avoiding eye contact with the singer. "I just wondered why," Marilyn shrugged with a small chuckle.

"Uhm," mumbled the smaller man, "I don't know, I mean, isn't that sorta...icky?" Marilyn laughed, "Well yeah, but all babies do it. I just found it odd," he admitted. Zim shrugged, "I've thought about it, I guess I just haven't yet, because I didn't want to repulse you," he cast his gaze downward, ashamed. "Hey now," consoled Marilyn, pulling Zim's chin up, gently, "it's not that bad, everyone does it, silly!" He was trying to lighten the mood a bit as he tickled Zim in his side.

The guitarist giggled, a sweet hint of pink against his cheeks, "Yeah, that's true," he stuck out his tongue. "Do...do you want me to try, Daddy?" he cautiously asked, "Only if you don't mind me trying, I mean," he rambled. Manson smiled, fully understanding that the cleanup was going to be much different than their usual routines. They were fully stocked with diapers, and had plenty of wipes, so he had no real concern. But he didn't want Zim to do anything that he wasn't comfortable doing. "Only if you want to try, baby," he ruffled Zim's ebony hair, once again, "of course."

Zim returned the smile, trying to hide his blushing cheeks, "I guess I'm gunna make messies in my diaper, today, Daddy," he giggled and squirmed on the bed, once again. He was feeling nervous and excited all at the same time. He had read before about how it made other adult babies' feel more like a real baby when they were messy, and that was a role that the guitarist just loved to play. He figured it would be quite the adventure. Manson kissed the boy on the forehead, "And I'll be right here to clean you up, afterward."

'The ultimate form of innocence,' thought the tall man. He smiled to himself, imagining Zimmy in his dirty diaper, completely dependent on the singer for everything. The thought of such adorable neediness made his stomach flutter with butterflies.

Daddy made Zim his usual spot on the living room floor to play, smiling at all of the toys they'd been collecting. He turned the television on to some cartoons, and left the smaller man alone to play, for just long enough to fetch a bottle of juice. Not even diapered for half an hour, and Zim was already growing anxious, thinking about the day's future events. He plopped his crinkly bum down on the blanket and tried to distract himself with his stacking rings, taking himself back to the simple mindset of a baby, once more. His usual bathroom break would not keep him from his 'little' headspace, this time.

Manson entered the room with a bottle of juice, handing it off to his baby. He chuckled, "What're you doing, munchkin?" he playfully asked. Zimmy had pulled all of the rings off the base, and was now innocently chewing on the orange one. He looked up and gave Marilyn an innocent face, simply muttering the word, "blue," in his baby voice. The singer laughed with amusement and took a seat on the couch. He pulled out a book and decided to read, while keeping a close eye on Zimmy. He figured Zim would need to go sometime in the next few hours, possibly even sooner.

Fast forward about twenty-two pages of the book later, and more than half the bottle down, Zim began to feel it. His anxiety was starting to creep up on him again as he squirmed uncomfortably on the blanket beneath him. 'Oh shit,' he thought, 'do I really want to do this? It's so humiliating.' He audibly whined, getting Manson's instant attention. "Baby, what's the matter?" cooed the singer, already realizing what it must be.

Zimmy blushed and looked down, "I gotta go," he whimpered. He clutched the front of his diaper, and wiggled, needing to pee, too. "Pee?" questioned Marilyn. Zim looked around, avoiding eye contact as he so often did while anxious, "Go," he repeated nervously. The bigger man put his book down, "It's okay, Zim, if you need to go, then go," he assured, "Don't hurt yourself holding it." Baby Zimmy whined again, this was just too hard, "I don't...want you to see."

Marilyn rose to his feet, putting on a gentle voice, "Baby, do you need Daddy to leave the room?" he asked softly. Zim looked up at the big singer and simply nodded once, visibly embarrassed, but extremely thankful for Daddy's understanding. "Okay, little one, you tell me if you need anything, alright?" said Manson. He quickly left to give Zim some much needed privacy, going off into the bathroom to prepare for the diaper changing process ahead.

Zim rose to his knees and bit his nails nervously. He was finding it so difficult to let go, so he decided to close his eyes and think of soothing, babyish things. 'You're just a baby, and babies go potty in their diapers,' He kept telling himself. He remembered that some toddlers liked to hide while doing the 'deed'. He scanned the room for a quiet spot, finding one behind a chair. Zimmy quickly scuttled over to it, crouching down. His brain began to pour out thoughts.

'This is so dumb, I should have done this in the bathroom,' his mind fought, 'But no, babies don't use bathroom, only their diapers.' He closed his eyes and focused on relieving his bladder first, since it was much less of a problem. 'Nope, I'm just hiding behind a chair, waiting to mess my diaper. Nothing out of the ordinary here,' he thought, sarcastically. Zimmy's diaper soon grew warm with urine, and he began to slowly calm down. "Remember, you're just a baby," he whispered to himself. He kept repeating it over and over in his brain, as he focused on going, 'I'm just a baby, I'm just a baby...'

With a soft grunt, he finally gave in and messed his wet diaper. It felt strange against him, almost alien. He blushed as he reached around and prodded his diapered bottom. The diaper was heavy in the seat, making him giggle slightly. "Yuckies," he whispered to himself, wrinkling his nose, cutely. The scent was what you would expect from a dirty diaper: not pleasant, but despite that, a sense of babyish relief came over him. 'I did it!' he thought, happily. Zim looked down at himself and wanted to laugh. So this is what he was so nervous about? It really did make him feel more like a baby.

"Daddy!" he called. The guitarist could already feel the soft tint of pink creeping up his cheeks, as he heard Marilyn's footsteps padding over the carpet. He didn't know what to expect. The singer entered the doorway and looked around, confused, "Zim?"

Zim perked up from his hiding spot, "Here I am," he peeped softly. What a sight to see, pink cheeks, innocent eyes, and a slightly sagging diaper. Marilyn smiled and came over, "You okay, bud?" The smaller man nodded and innocently popped his thumb into his mouth without a second thought, "I goed potty, Da," he said, cuddling the singer. Manson pat Zim's messy bottom, and even peeked into the elastic to confirm. He fake gasped playfully, "Yes, you did! What a good boy!" Manson kissed Zim's forehead, "Daddy's so proud of you." Oh, how Zimmy adored praise from Daddy!

A gentle squeak sounded from Zim, as Marilyn picked him up and carried him to the bathroom, where a soothing bath had already been drawn, "Let's get you all nice and clean," he cooed. Zim nodded, "No yucky wrashies," he said. Manson could already tell by Zim's voice and mannerisms that he was more regressed than usual. He rubbed and pat the baby's back, comfortingly, "No, buddy, Daddy won't let you get a diaper rash." Zim couldn't wait to smell fresh again. 

 

And to think, he got all worked up over something so silly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The next part will be about the bath mentioned in this part!)


	4. Bath Time

Big bad Marilyn Manson never in a million years thought he would one day be changing diapers regularly. It never would have even crossed his mind that the diapers would belong to his guitarist! Zim Zum had been laying on a big black fluffy towel, protecting his bare skin from the bathroom's cold floor. He was sucking on his pacifier contently while his hands rested over his chest, patiently watching Daddy clean him up. A sweet pink hue was washed over his cheeks.

Meanwhile, Manson was finishing quite a thorough clean-up job. Zimmy had messed his diaper for the first time, and it was a new experience for both of them. The singer held up Zim's smooth legs as he finished wiping his lower half down with the cool baby wipes. The way he held his legs up at the ankles for every diaper change made Zim feel so little. "There we go, Little one," he said in a soothing tone, "I think I've got you cleaned up enough." The bigger man chuckled. He gently lowered the guitarist's legs back down, before going to discard the dirty diaper.

Zim's blush did not part ways from his cheeks as he sat his naked body up, looking up at Daddy innocently. "Fank you, Da," He peeped through the plastic bulb of his paci. Manson smiled and pat his head, "You ready for your bath, doll?" he asked with a grin. Zim nodded, looking over at the prepared bath, "Do I get to pway wiff my duckies, Daddy?" Oh yes, how could Manson forget? The lovely little set of rubber duckies that he bought as a reward for "good behavior" at the store. The "good behavior" of course was wetting himself in public.

The singer smiled and nodded, "Sure can, kiddo," he answered, making Zimmy squeak with approval. He helped the smaller man to his feet, before lifting him with a soft grunt. "Da, I can do it," Zim whined. "Oh hush," Manson was quick to reply to the little boy's protests, giving a gentle, yet firm tap to his bare bottom cheek; though, he was extra careful not to be too firm, after what happened last time. "I don't need you slipping," he said in a fatherly tone. Zim's frame was petite and Daddy treated him like a fragile doll. In no time, he carefully settled the guitarist into the warm, soapy water. The water's contact with his pale skin made Zimmy shiver lightly, despite it's warmness.

Zim looked quite sweet. He was still absentmindedly sucking on his pacifier as he looked down and studied the water, curiously, just as a baby would. He smacked his hand against it lightly, and looked up at Manson with his big, glossy green eyes. "Bath water need any adjusting?" asked Manson, a slight smirk upon his face, as he grabbed the new package of rubber ducks and began tearing it open. Zim shook his head and splashed a bit more, "No, Daddy, fank you." The singer grinned wide, his baby was so sweet and polite.

One, two, three, four! Manson plopped the plastic ducks of various sizes in one by one, making the smaller man squeal and clap his hands with delight. The singer chuckled, "Now you have a whole family of ducks to play with!" What fun! He watched as Zimmy entertained himself with the floating toys and bubbles, while preparing a soapy washcloth. "Dis one's name is Ziggy!" Zim held up the largest duck to show Manson, followed by the second largest, "and dis is Leia!" He looked back down and pointed to the two smaller ones floating near him, "and that's Dot and Star!"

Manson chuckled with amusement by the boy's imagination, "Very nice little family, baby." He rolled the sleeves of his black shirt further up, before beginning to clean up his baby. Zim was finding delight in the bubbles. "Lookit me, Daddy! I'm Santa!" giggled the boy, showing off his impressive bubble beard. The singer laughed at the boy's antics. "And these are my reindeer!" Zim picked up the rubber ducks to show his daddy. Manson continues scrubbing him down with the gentle washcloth, "No, silly, those are ducks, not reindeer," he laughed. Daddy's laughter made Zimmy giggle and wiggle in the water.

"Da...Ducky!" He squeaked babyishly. "Mhm" nodded the singer, "And what color are the duckies, baby?" He could tell the guitarist was regressing further. Zim blinked and looked at the plastic toy, studying it for a moment, "Yah....yeh..." he pretended to struggle with his words. "That's it, you can do it, little one," encouraged the singer. He dipped the cloth into the water and went to wash his legs. "Yewow, Daddy!" the boy said, bouncing on his bum subtly with excitement. Manson fake gasped, "Yeah! That's right! You're such a smart boy, aren't you?"

Zim blushed and smiled, babbling a little bit. When Daddy went on to wash his feet, he squeaked and started giggling. This made Manson grin teasingly, "Oh, is my little boy ticklish?" The sweet guitarist held his pink-tinted cheeks with his hands and nodded shyly, curling his toes out of reflex. "Tickles, Da da," he squeaked out. "Oh yeah? What about here?" asked the singer as he playfully tickled his tummy. This instantly threw Zim into a fit laughter, squirming and wriggling around in the water. "Stop, Da! Tickles!" he giggled, splashing Daddy lightly in so-called "self-defense".

"Awe, you little stinker!" laughed Manson, ruffling Zimmy's dark bob of hair, "let's get your hair washed, now, sweetie." Zim always got nervous washing his hair. Almost always, he would accidentally get shampoo in his eye. The thought of the agonizing sting made him cringe. "Da..." he fidgeted and whined with distress as Marilyn began squirting shampoo into the palm of his hand. "Shhh, baby," he calmed. He lightly splashed the duckies over toward Zim with his other hand, "Play with your ducks, sweetie. Daddy's gonna take good care of you."

Zim silently obeyed, playing with the little rubber toys while Daddy began to work the strawberry scented shampoo into his hair. "That's a good boy," he praised, making sure his hair was coated. "Tell Daddy what the duckies say, baby," said Manson, in an attempt to distract Zim further. Zim was instantly pulled back from worrying and once again into his babyish state of mind. He thought for a moment, "Hmm....arf!" Of course, in the very back of his mind, he knew that answer was super duper wrong.

Marilyn laughed, gently tilting Zim's head back, "No, silly! That's what a dog says!" Zim giggled and repeated his little barking noise. "Ducks go quack quack," corrected the singer. The smaller man instantly repeated in his babyish tone, "quack quack! Da, duckies go waddle waddle," Zim wiggled in place a bit. "Yes they do, Zimmy," The bigger man began rinsing the soap from his hair, "and so do you, in your thick diapers." The singer laughed as Zim blushed and huffed a little "nuh-uh". "Oh I think you do, little boy, and it's adorable," teased Manson.

Finally, all the soap was rinsed out of Zimmy's hair, "There, that wasn't so bad, huh?" Marilyn nudged his baby's shoulder gently. The quitarist stuck out his tongue playfully. He was starting to become sleepy, and Daddy could tell. "Ready to get dry again?" the singer asked. Zimmy rubbed his eyes and nodded. In no time, Daddy had a big black fluffy towel ready. He wrapped it around the guitarist as he helped him to his feet, and lifted him out of the bathtub. "Say 'bye-bye' to the water, little guy," cooed Manson. Zim giggled a bit and waved at the tub, "buh bah."

"Daddy has a surprise for you," explained the singer as he carried the boy to his room. He sat Zim down on his bed and continued to further dry his damp skin. Zim suddenly felt excited at Daddy's promise for a surprise. "Da daaa, what ish it?" he wiggled impatiently. Manson grinned, "Lay back and close your eyes." Zim obeyed instantly.

The singer went over to Zim's closet and retrieved a few items, one was a brand new adult onesie with feet, that was printed with colorful little dinosaurs all over. With that, Manson pulled out an extra thick diaper and a bottle of baby powder. He brought them over to the bed and poked Zimmy's bare tummy, making him wiggle and squeak. "Open your eyes, cutie pie." In a second, Zim removed his hands from over his eyes and smiled wide when he saw the onesie.

He gasped softly and sat up, "Daddy, it's wonderful!" he gawked. He touched the fabric to find that it was warm and cozy, just for these cool autumn nights. His eyes filled with happy tears as he threw himself into Manson's arms, "I love it so much. Thank you." Mason rubbed the boy's back, "You're welcome, Zim."

The diaper that Daddy unfolded and placed under Zim's clean rump was a special overnight diaper. Zimmy blushed softly as his paci bobbed up and down in his mouth, while Manson explained about them. "These are called 'Snuggies' and they're extra thick for overnight use," he cooed, gently powdering his baby, "because I know my little guy tends to wet heavily in his sleep." Zim smiled behind his pacifier and hid his cheeks.

Once the cozy diaper was taped up nice and snug around Zim, he tried to stifle a soft yawn, but failed. "I know, sweetie," chuckled the singer, "We're gonna get you all nice and ready for beddy-bye." He was gentle as he dressed the guitarist in the warm footed sleeper, and hummed the tune of Tourniquet as he did so. He zipped up the front and took a look at Zim laying on the bed before him. His eyes were already closed and his legs were slightly spread from the thickness between them. Daddy thought he genuinely looked sweet.

It was still early in the evening, but Manson knew that his little boy had an eventful day. He placed Zim's beloved teddy bear into his arms and leaned down to give a kiss to his forehead, looking forward to tomorrow's adventures.


	5. Pogo is an Asshole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone decides to go out for a drink one night, except Pogo has a little too much, as usual. Alcohol paired up with his usual drug use causes him to say some things that don't make sense...or does it? Zim and Manson are NOT happy.

Zim was feeling nervous. He was nervous about how the night was going to pan out. He and Manson were traveling to meet up with Pogo, Twiggy, and Ginger for a few drinks. The guitarist, of course, wasn't really interested in drinking tonight, he was worried about slipping into his "little space" without warning. Daddy wanted him to wear a diaper out tonight, but Zim refused, nearly throwing himself onto the floor, in a childish fit of kicking and screaming. It was just too risky, at the moment. Marilyn frowned, but thankfully nodded in understanding. He never wanted to be forceful with Zim, however, he was just as worried as the guitarist was.

"Z, you gotta relax, baby," He comforted, "come on, everything will be fine. We'll have a few drinks-" he started, but his baby soon cut him off. "I don't feel like alcohol, tonight," he said, sullenly. Manson nodded, "That's okay, we'll still have a nice time together," he nudged the smaller man in the shoulder, attempting to cheer him up. "I bet Twiggy's dumb ass will have us dying of laughter as usual," he chuckled. Zim silently nodded and looked out the car window, wishing he could just be home, safe and secure under Daddy's wing. He never did quite understand what was fun about drinking. Zim was quite a lightweight, and always ended up with a bad headache.

He bit his lip, hoping to not fuck up and call Manson "Daddy" in front of his band mates. They'd never give him a break, if he did that. He didn't even want to think about it. The singer could sense that Zim's anxiety was rising, as he sat beside him in the back of the taxi. Zim bit the tips of his fingers out of habit, pulling his legs up and hugging his knees. His mind was teetering back and forth from infant to adult. 'Oh god,' he though, 'How am I gonna do this?'

Manson was equally worried, but was trying not to let it get to him. "Deep breaths, Zim," he comforted, "I promise, it'll be fine." The singer took a deep breath himself, running his fingers through his long hair, 'I really hope it will be fine,' he thought. "We used to go out all the time with the guys, remember?" he gave Zim a soft nudge of reassurance. The guitarist just looked up at him with those big green orbs he grew to love so much. They were warm, trusting, and loving, with that familiar gleam of innocence hidden within. Zimmy allowed himself to give a smidge of a smile.

Zim tried to calm down the best he could, deciding to rest his head on Manson's shoulder the rest of the way. "That's a good boy," crooned the singer, gently, "Everything's going to be alright." He stroked the boy's hair gently. Zim closed his eyes for a moment, breathing out a steady breath, "You promise?" he squeaked ever so faintly. The singer smiled and ran his fingers through Zim's ebony locks, "Daddy promises." This made the smaller man's cheeks go red, suddenly.

With a slight screech of the taxi brakes, they were stopped in front of the pub. Zim's heart was racing, he swallowed down the lump in his throat as Manson went to pay the driver.

"Are you ready?" Manson asked in his loving, fatherly tone. He placed his hand reassuringly on Zim's shoulder and rubbed slightly. The guitarist took a breath, "I guess," he quietly replied. He gripped the back of Manson's leather jacket tightly, as they exited the vehicle and started toward the restaurant doors.

Walking in, Manson cringed a bit, at the sight of sports on the television. He then remembered he had to keep a small distance from Zim. If they had seemed "too close", the band mates might start talking shit, suspecting them of being in a relationship. The same thing happened a few years before, when Daisy walked in on he and Twiggy, both locked in a passionate kiss. The two dated for a brief bit, and while no one really gave a shit, their snickers and stares would get on his last nerve.

"Zim, Mazz, over here!" Twiggy called the two over to a corner table at the bar, where he, Ginger and Pogo had already been drinking. "Took you fuckers long enough," laughed the bassist. Manson shot him a quick glare, pulling out a chair, "The taxi driver was a slow-fuck," he said. He watched Zim for a split second, as he awkwardly tucked some hair behind his ear and sat down, quietly, seeming to stare blankly at the table in front of him.

Pogo smirked at the guitarist, "What's wrong with Baby-face?" he asked in a strange, drunken tone. 'Oh Christ, he's already had too many,' Manson thought, seeing the empty beers sat on the table in front of him. Ginger gave Pogo a strange look, "What? The fuck you calling 'Baby-face'?" he chuckled, slightly. "Zimmy Zummy," Pogo replied in a sing-song tone. Manson started to have a dreadful feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he knew Pogo liked to talk when he was fucked up. Zim casually folded his arms, raising his hand to his mouth to bite his nails, as he did out of habit, "Just a headache," he mumbled out. He was trying so hard to remain somewhat calm, he kept trying to tell himself that Pogo doesn't mean what he's saying.

The guitarist and singer both ordered their drinks, and proceeded to make their typical chit-chat about music and women. Though, after a while, Twiggy started to pick on Zim a bit for not drinking. "Dude, are you that much of a lightweight?" he laughed. Zim's beer was only about one-third of the way gone, while the other band mates were ready for seconds. He simply shrugged, ignoring Twiggy's "peer pressure". "What are you, in high school, Twigs? He said he had a headache," Manson said quite nonchalantly, taking a drink of his absinthe. Twiggy shrugged, "I just think it's a waste of beer," he added.

Zim scooted his bottle across the table to the bassist, "You want the rest?" Twiggy grinned, "Sure, man. Gimmie that." Pogo let out an amused chuckle, again, "Right, because babies don't drink, huh?" He took the last drink of his beer before slamming the glass bottle back down to the table in a playful manner, making Zim cringe, slightly. Zim was good friends with Pogo, but he hated when Pogo was high. He would immediately transform into the biggest asshole. He could tell the keyboardist was a bit more than just drunk, tonight.

"What the hell is your problem, man?" Manson nearly growled. "Yeah, what's with all the baby stuff?" added Ginger. "Why don't you ask Zim?" Pogo said, in a straightforward manner. Manson's blood was starting to boil, and Zim's heart was racing. "Oooh, Zim, did ya knock a hooker up or something?" giggled Twiggy. Ginger scrunched his face up, "God damn, that would suck," he took a drink, "I hate babies."

Zim needed a moment to compose himself before something terrible ended up happening. He quietly cleared his throat, trying not to be suspicious, "I'll be back," he said. He got up and started making his way to the bathroom, when he heard Pogo mockingly talking in his direction. "Awe, he didn't wear his diapers today, did he?" To this, Twiggy busted out into laughter. Zim's face went completely red as he continued on, slipping into the bathroom, nearly in tears.

"Dude, what the hell?!" Twiggy laughed, "That'd be so fucking funny!" Pogo smiled, almost proudly, in his drunken haze. Manson, however, didn't find it so funny. "Pogs, I think you might need to shut the fuck up. You know Zim can be sensitive," he said, trying not to grit his teeth, angrily. Pogo laughed, "Yeah, he's sensitive because he's a baby, dip-shit." He put his hands behind his head, in a smug manner, staring at the singer, "Don't go pretending you don't like it, either." At this point, Ginger was giving Pogo a strange look, "Yeah, this is awkward." He looked down and swirled the Jack Daniels in his glass.

In the bathroom, Zim took a look at himself in the mirror, his eyes were rimmed with tears, as he bit his lower lip to keep it from quivering. He was so anxious he wanted to puke. 'How could Pogo do this?' He thought. 'What did I do to him to deserve this shit?' He sullenly sniffed and looked down, not wanting to look at himself as his tears fell freely. He was so humiliated and hurt. "Just a stupid, pathetic little baby," he mumbled to himself, staring down at the sink as he allowed himself to cry.

"So what, did you just like, admit that Zim wears diapers or something?" giggled Twiggy. Pogo smiled and laughed with him, lighting a cigarette. "Gross," muttered Ginger, under his breath, "Can we talk about something else?" Twiggy scoffed, "No waay, man, I'm intrigued!" he slurred. Manson had heard enough, he swiftly got up and walked to the bathroom, without a word. "What's the matter, Brian? Off to go breastfeed?" laughed the keyboardist. Manson flipped him off, not even giving a shit about the others in the bar, "FUCK you, asshole."

He pushed open the door to the restroom, walking in, only to see Zim, down against the wall, his head against his knees and his arms hugging himself tightly. "Zim..." The singer said gently, coming closer to his form and crouching down beside him, quickly noticing he was sat in a small puddle of his own urine. Zim looked up at him, his eyes rimmed red. "You promised," He said quietly. Manson's heard broke at how miserable he looked. He immediately cursed at himself. How stupid could he be? Pulling his baby out like this when he clearly wasn't ready. "I'm just a stupid little baby," Zim faintly whispered. The singer brushed his hand against his baby's cheek, feeling so guilty.

"No, you are not, Zim." Manson said firmly. Zim looked up at him, his eyes filling once again, with tears, "Th-they know now, don't they?" he quietly asked. Manson sighed, not answering. God only knew what Pogo was saying about them as they sat there. He wished he could break Pogo's ugly face. "Baby, let's go home. Come on, sweetie-pie, I got you," Manson gently helped Zim to his feet, seeing the bottom and groin of his jeans completely soaked. "Poor baby," he whispered with a sigh. He pulled his jacket off and tied it around Zim's small waist. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm...I'm bad," Zim whimpered and sniffed.

"No, Zimmy, it's okay, accidents happen," he softly dried the guitarist's tears, when the creak of the bathroom door sounded. "Manson?" called a familiar voice. It was Ginger. He stopped suddenly in the doorway, seeing Marilyn stand in front of Zim, in a protecting way, saying nothing and just letting the sight process through his mind. He kept his mouth slightly ajar, as if he were about to say something. "Fuck off," Manson said. He gently pulled Zim and they started toward the door, completely ignoring the drummer.

They exited the bathroom, and soon made their way to exit the pub. Zim kept his head down, only following Manson's boots to lead the way, trying not to think about the stares he was given by strangers. "Manson!" They heard Ginger call after again, just at the made their way outside, where the early evening sky was a mixture of orange and pink, as the sun was finally setting. Zim allowed himself to look up at it, finally taking a deep breath of crisp autumn air, his cheeks still streaked with tears of embarrassment. They could hear the faint laughing of the keyboardist from the inside. Thank goodness the sidewalks were damn-near bare. Manson took hold of Zim's hand, as he led him down the sidewalk, hailing a cab.

'What a nightmare,' thought Zim. He was sure he would never be able to face his band mates again.


	6. Unexpected

It was a Friday evening, and Manson was sat on the plush living room carpet with Zim, playing a competitive game of Connect Four. They were both quite content in having their own little "game night". Zimmy sat cross-legged, clad in his thick diaper and Black Sabbath T-shirt, sucking his purple binkie. Though, his headspace was teetering back and forth from being a toddler, to a sassy pre-teen, during the game. He slipped the red plastic disc into the slot, scoring four.

"Ha! Beatchya!" He squealed. Manson simply chuckled with amusement. He'd secretly been letting the younger man win, all this time. "You're bad at this game, Daddy," the guitarist giggled. He was certainly letting his inner sass-queen show today. Manson stuck his tongue out playfully, leaning back against his elbow. "Yeah, well you're bad at holding your bladder, kiddo," he teased lightly. Touché.

Zim pulled the big paci from his mouth and aggressively stuck his tongue out at his Daddy. It was a lot more fitting than simply flipping the singer off, his actions actually made the bigger man laugh out loud. It was like a child-version of cursing. The guitarist pulled the tab at the bottom to restart the game, "One more, Daddy?" He made puppy dog eyes. Manson smiled and agreed, "one more, then we should get your diaper changed." The singer eyed the smaller man's padding, noticing it looking soggy.

Zim blushed and looked down at his own crotch, "Oh...you mean the diaper I'm currently peeing in?" Marilyn bellowed with amused laughter at his silly boy. "You see? I told you you were bad at holding it!" he teased. Zimmy just giggled and popped his paci back in his mouth, wiggling happily and crinkling, without a care in the world, "You be red this time! And I wanna go first!" The little boy could certainly be demanding at times. Manson didn't mind, he smiled thoughtfully, "Okay, okay, settle down."

The smaller man suddenly jerked as the phone rang, tensity raging up his spine. Manson sat up with annoyance, shooting glares over to the phone on the wall. It had been a week since the awful experience at the bar. Pogo and the guys had been trying to get a hold of him nonstop, ever since. The singer gave a warm expression to his baby, reaching out to rub his forearm with reassurance. Zim looked up at him with his green eyes glistening. They both stayed totally silent until the phone stopped, only communicating with each other through eye contact.

Finally, it stopped. Manson took a deep breath, "It's okay," he assured Zim, lovingly. Zim sucked his pacifier and twirled his black hair, bringing his knees up to his chest, "Da?" He asked curiously. "Yeah baby?" The singer responded softly with a smile. Zim looked downward, his pretty eyelashes shielding those beautiful orbs, his cheeks still red with shyness. 

"I leaked."

Manson instinctively looked down, to see a small wet patch on the carpet near Zim's bottom. He couldn't help but chuckle in a fatherly way. "Guess we should get that diaper changed before our next game, after all," he said. Zim furrowed his brow and pushed his bottom lip out behind his paci, in a full-on pout, "But..." he started. "Hey now, none of that," said the tall man, as he rose to his feet, "our game can wait. I don't need you to end up with a rash." Zim quickly gave up his moment of brattiness in exchange for neediness. He held his arms out to Manson in a very childlike way, grabbing at the air, "Uppie, Da Da!" The singer beamed.

He pulled the boy to his feet, "Lead the way, Little one," he encouraged. Zim clapped his hands, "Follow the leader!" he exclaimed. Marilyn followed the shorter man all the way to his bedroom. He smirked with amusement, taking note of the slight waddle in Zimmy's step. He was such a baby. Zim stopped in front of his bed, turning to the singer, his index finger on his nose, "Simon says touch your nose!" he giggled. Manson smiled and shook his head. "I'll touch my nose, alright," he put his hands on his hips, "I'll be plugging it because you stink, Little boy." He pat the changing pad laid out on the bed gently, as Zim giggled, "Now lay down."

The guitarist obeyed, hiding his face as his soaked diaper was totally displayed for Daddy. As if this wasn't the first time, by now, but Zimmy was still shy. Manson turned away from the closet with fresh padding and wipes in hand. He saw Zim hiding his face and audibly chuckled, "You're a silly boy today, huh?" he noted. He untaped the sides of Zimmy's diaper, carefully peeling the material away from his skin. The guitarist pulled his hands away from his face, and pulled the binkie away from his mouth, only slightly. "I wike play'n wiff Daddy," he peeped.

Daddy couldn't help but grin widely, as he casually cleaned Zimmy's privates with baby wipes. "Daddy likes playing with you too, little one," he said in that soft, fatherly tone Zim grew to love. Manson adored being depended on. He didn't care if that meant changing a thousand dirty diapers, or spending money on meaningless baby toys that would otherwise go unnoticed. Taking care of Zim was like a drug, being called "Daddy" was an addiction he never, ever wanted to beat. He softly powdered Zim's groin and bottom, before pulling the clean diaper onto him and taping it snug.

Zim was so cute, he'd been playing with his teddy bear during the change, waving him around and babbling senselessly behind his paci. He almost didn't notice that he was clean until Manson gave a firm pat between his legs. "See? That didn't take too long, did it?" mused the singer. Zim simply blushed and cooed, wiggling a bit against the change pad.

Suddenly, a knock at the door sounded. The two men looked at each other, concerned. Manson rubbed Zim's tummy gently, "Don't worry, baby," he whispered, "Stay here." Zim only whined as Manson turned to walk out of Zim's bedroom, to answer the door. He swallowed hard, looking at his Teddy, as if for answers. Nearing the door, Marilyn could hear a familiar voice behind it. Ginger. He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why won't these fuckers just leave me alone, right now?" He asked himself.

He took a step forward and decided to open the door. Ginger, Twiggy, and Pogo all stood before him. There was a momentary silence between all of them, before Twiggy decided to speak. "Hey.." he trailed, "Glad to see you're still alive." The air around them was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. No one really knew what to say. Manson looked over to Pogo, glaring at him. The keyboardist just stood there casually, hands in his pockets, cigarette between his lips. He shrugged at the singer, "What gives?" 'What gives? What gives?! Does he really not have a conscious?' the singer thought.

Manson clenched his jaw, "You tell me, fucker," he growled, "You got a lot of nerve showing up here."

"Manson," Ginger started, before being cut short with a "shut the fuck up." Pogo only chuckled with amusement, this was all very lighthearted to him.

"You know, I never realized how much of a fucking asshole you are," Manson said. "Oh, until I spilled the beans about your precious little pride and joy," Pogo mocked, "Come on, you should have known I don't keep secrets for very long, that was all your fucking doing." He shrugged again, very nonchalantly, "It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? It's a big deal to him, you stupid fuck!" roared Manson, "You totally fucking humiliated him!"

"Zim's my friend, he'll get over it," said Pogo, he dropped his cigarette to the ground and put it out with his foot. "Are you gonna let us in, asshole? It's fucking cold out here."

"I'd rather you not speak for me," a small voice was heard. Manson turned his head, seeing Zim stood behind him, arms locked around his teddy bear, his foot nervously twisting on the ground. Twiggy's eyes got wide, and Ginger looked down nervously. No one really knew how to react to Zim's sudden appearance. It was quite obvious to everyone in front of him, that he was in the thick diaper Daddy put him in not even fifteen minutes before.

"Holy shit, it's true!" exclaimed the bassist. Tears welled up in Zimmy's eyes as he instinctively looked down, his hands starting to tremble. Ginger scratched the back of his head, uncomfortably, "Um."

"Zim, go back inside, I can take care of this." said the singer, softly.

Pogo started to laugh, making the singer's blood boil, "It's not fucking funny, you asshole!" he yelled. Hearing Daddy so angry made Zim flinch, the tears started to roll down his cheeks. Pogo continued to laugh, until noticing Zim start to cry. 'I make everyone angry, even Daddy,' thought the babied guitarist. "Ah, shit," Pogo said, regretfully. He really didn't wanna make his friend cry, no matter how silly he thought it was. He stopped laughing and gave a sigh, shifting uncomfortably.

"Hey, man, it's...it's okay, I...I didn't mean it. Come on," He started to feel really shitty, "We can come inside and talk about this."

"Don't wanna talk about it!" Zim cried, "just want you to leave me alone!" There was a slight lisp in his words. He turned away from the doorway and ran back to his bedroom. "You're real fucking satisfied with yourself, aren't you, prick?" asked Manson, gritting his teeth. "Well, no, but..." the keyboardist started.

"Look, man, we just want to understand," said the drummer. "We're a band, if one of us is fucked, then we're all fucked, and you know that." Manson let that sink into his brain for a moment. He was right. "So just- I don't know- Talk to us!" continued Ginger, "I mean, we all feel bad about it." He looked over at Twiggy who was still quietly snickering about Zim's underwear of choice. He elbowed the bassist in the arm to make him pay attention, "Right?"

"Ow," Twiggy hissed, "Yeah, we totally feel bad, Manson. We were shitty."

After a moment of thought, Manson finally stepped out of the way, inviting them in, without words. He was still glaring daggers at the keyboardist, as the older man walked into the house. "So like, are you dating Zim or something?" Twiggy asked. Manson shook his head and gave an irritated sigh, "no."

"Oh," said Twiggy. He paused a moment, "Do you like...change his shitty diapers?" He smirked a bit and giggled like a teenager. Ginger smacked the bassist in the arm, once more, "dude." "Hey, I'm just wondering!" exclaimed Twiggy. Manson pinched the bridge of his nose again, "Twigs, please, would ya put a sock in it?"

They stood around in the hallway as Manson walked straight up to Zim's bedroom door, giving a knock. "Zim?" he asked comfortingly, before opening the door. It was just a normal bedroom but, there were a few hints lain all around, that would easily disclose Zim's little side. There were plush toys on his bed, a box of Pampers wipes left out on the dresser, beside a bottle of Johnson's baby powder. They were silent. A wave of fear washed over Manson only for a moment, when he found no Zim in sight.

"Baby?" He stepped into the room, "Zim, talk to me." A sniff was heard from the closet, and Manson was instantly relieved, figuring the boy was only hiding. Pogo watched as Manson came over to the closet, slowly opening the door. He remembered the night they found out, and how awkward it was. He started to feel really bad about how he'd been acting. He never really stopped to think about how this all made Zim feel. The poor kid was probably scared shitless.

Marilyn crouched down in front of Zim's form. He was sat against the wall with his head in his knees, his nails digging into his legs, as he trembled. No one knew what to expect. They were all aware that Zim had panic attacks from time to time, but they never imagined it like this. It was very bizarre to witness big bad Marilyn Manson being total softie. "Hey now, stop that," The singer pulled Zim's hands away from his calves genty, his nails leaving deep red indentations, "I don't need you to draw blood."

Zim picked his head up, his eyes and nose were red, and his cheeks were tear-stained. He simply looked up at the singer pitifully, as he stroked his hair. "I ruin everything," He said, "I make everyone uncomfortable...I make myself uncomfortable. I'm better off dead," He cried. All three men instantly regret everything that was ever mentioned about him, that day at the bar. No one but Manson at this point, had a clue how much Zim was really struggling. The singer took Zim's face in his hands, "Look at me, Zim. Look at me."

The smaller man allowed himself to look up, sullenly, into the frontman's eyes, "You know that's not true." Twiggy came over and sat down on the floor next to Manson. The babied man squeezed his eyes shut at the sight of the bassist, turning away in fear of what would be said. Twiggy played with his dreadlock, thinking of how to apologize. "Look, Zim, I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable," he said, "And, hey, for what it's worth, you make diapers look really rad." Manson rolled his eyes at his friend's childishness. Sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder if he was also a little. He thought that was quite amusing to imagine.

"We're all really sorry, Zim," Ginger said, "We didn't realize how much this kind of thing meant to you."

Zim opened his eyes, still looking down at the carpet, thoughtfully listening to what was being said.

"Look man, I know it can be kinda funny sometimes and stuff, but, I mean, as long as it helps you feel better, that's all that really matters, right?" the drummer continued. Zim nodded. He finally looked up, his gaze settled on Pogo, who was leaning against the wall with an indescribable look on his face. "Are....we still friends?" Zim asked softly.

Pogo looked at him, smiling a bit, "'Course we are, man," he said. "I'm sorry I was such a dick-face to you. I'll always have your back, Z."

Manson decided it was time to explain further. "Look, Zim needs someone to be there when he feels this way. So, I figured I'd be the one to look out for him when he's most vulnerable," he explained. "And I'm not perfect at it, but," he paused, only to wipe Zimmy's teary cheeks with his thumb, "let's just say, it feels really nice to be depended on this way." Zim lovingly rested his head against Manson's hand.

"And no, Twiggy," chuckled the singer, "We ain't dating or fucking or anything like that." Twiggy chuckled. "And, I do change his diapers," Zim cuddled himself against the singer as he spoke, "it's just something I'm kinda used to, at this point. If Zim wants to piss himself, then I let him piss himself." Zim blushed, as Daddy ruffled his hair. "I mean, we've been on drug binges and shit, so who are we to judge him?" He was right.

The three men sat there, still trying to take everything all in, mentally, as Manson helped Zim to get calm. Pogo decided to speak after a bit. "I mean, it's weird, but...I guess we can make things work." he said, "As long as that's what Zim really wants." Manson really didn't want to forgive him, but for Zim's sake he didn't have much of a choice. He nodded, "Alright."

"It is," They heard Zim say. His voice was a bit louder and more confident than before, "I really enjoy being small. It's comforting." Pogo simply nodded in understanding.

The five men decided to end things on a more stable ground. Although Zim was still a bit wary, he began to feel like things would slowly start to look up, now that the guys could understand. He was looking forward to putting the humiliating experience behind him, and move on with what life had to offer. Most importantly, he wanted Daddy to stay in his life. They finally understood how much he really needed his Daddy.


End file.
